


Dancing

by makingitwork



Series: Peter/Stiles [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Prom, Were-wolf sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the dream afraid of waking</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by:
> 
> clared who said 'Definitely some knotting soon please?'
> 
> SlythKris who said 'If there's wolf knotting soon I will be very happy soon'
> 
> forensicromantic (fedorakitty) who said '(oh, and mega pumped bout the wolf sex…not gonna lie :D )' and 'wolf knotting should happen asap i would love the shit out of that'
> 
> Werewolfgirl44 who said 'Can't wait to see the prom one if you write it. '
> 
> PandoraSinclair who said 'p.s.: yey to sexy times ;D'
> 
> sorry the sexy times aren't very long here :((

Peter has said it before, and he’ll say it again.

Stiles is a very _handsome_ wolf. Scrawny little thing, Stiles stretches and yips happily as he and Peter stroll through the forest on a dark, warm night. Well, Peter’s strolling, the large, light brown wolf, well-kept with nearly glowing blue eyes walks leisurely, happily watching his nineteen year old mate bound and woof and dart around trees.

Peter snorted when Stiles nuzzled under his jaw, but licked the fur over his mate’s ear as Stiles yawns suddenly, curling up under a tree. Peter approaches him, sniffing gently, and shoving Stiles over with his snout and Stiles huffs indignantly; until Peter mounts him.

The smaller wolf understands then, and he whines happily, shooting Peter a look as though to say _you kinky bastard._ Peter shrugs and accepts it happily, nipping at Stiles’ pointed ear, and slamming home with no prep.

They _howl_ so loudly into the night it nearly hurts Peter’s ears but he just pulls out and rams harder, wanting Stiles to howl, wanting everyone in the town to know that he’s Peter’s, and Peter can satisfy his mate.

Stiles claws at the mud, and pants happily, he’s unable to thrust back, but he doesn’t need to. Peter is hitting everything- everything- god, his claws curls into the ground in unimaginable pleasure. He’s kept seeing stars and black spots in his vision, a constant state of pure bliss that Peter delighted in seeing him in.

When his knot forms, it feels so much more natural than it does when Stiles is human. Not better- god no, the tightness around Stiles as human and seeing his mates face make it more, but this feels more animalistic, more _right._ He’s a wolf, claiming another wolf, and his jaw clamps onto Stiles’ shoulder as he thrusts his knot in. It swells and Stiles whines as it locks all the cum deep inside him, more spurting deep into him.

Stiles goes limp underneath him, nearly sinking into the soft grass. Peter keeps him warm, shielding the smaller body, and as Stiles falls asleep, his magic fades away, and Peter’s left knotted and shielding a tiny human. He licks at the tiny bite marks on Stiles’ shoulder. Knowing they’ll fade, but never really go, looking like tiny pieces of silver on his arm.

When Stiles wakes up, he’s in bed. He sits up suddenly, feeling stretched and delicious and good ‘My shoulder hurts like a bitch.’ He mumbles, and Peter nuzzles him apologetically

‘I got a little caught up in it.’ He admits, and Stiles laughs. He draws Stiles pain, and Stiles sighs happily. Nestled between Peter’s legs, back to chest, they watch the rising sun through the window.

…

…

…

Peter pushes open the door, muttering about his nephew. Derek’s a bit of a player, and that’s fine, Peter respects that, but leaving Peter to explain to some poor blonde girl that Derek’s moved on isn’t Peter’s idea of a good time. Okay _fine,_ maybe it is. A bit. But still. Peter had stuff to do.

He stiffens at Stiles’ heartbeat, before catching sight of his mate, holding a rose.

‘Stiles?’

‘Will you go to prom with me?’ The sixteen year old asks, ducking his head, and Peter just stares in amazement

‘What?’

Stiles steps forward, holding the rose in those long, lean fingers ‘prom? My school’s prom? We’re having a prom. You know? Drinking? Dancing? Fancy clothes? Holding me close in public? AKA your idea of a good time?’

‘You’re asking me…to prom?’

‘Yeah, I…’ Stiles bites his bottom lip ‘I only wanna go with you.’

Peter leaps at him.

Stiles yelps out a desperate laugh, as Peter’s lips press against his own, and the rose gets crushed between them.

…

…

…

They have prom when Stiles is ten. A last bang before they go to high school.

Peter watches in half parts of amusement and jealousy as the ten year old Stiles holds a handful of daisies out for Lydia Martin. She’s only ten, but she’s pretty and perfect to Stiles. ‘W-would you like to go to prom with me?’ He asks, and she flicks her hair and cocks her head

‘Umm…’ She frowns, thinking hard, and Peter rolls his eyes. The girl has a gem in front of him, and she doesn’t see it. ‘I _suppose._ Not as dates though. No boyfriends yet. Just friends.’

‘Yeah?’ Stiles bounds on his feet, holding out the flowers, and she takes them, smiling

‘I like flowers.’ She says and Stiles fist pounds the air and shoots Peter an excited, smug look. Peter puts his thumbs up in return, but can’t watch Stiles fawn over Lydia for too long. It makes him agitated and so years later, when Stiles, fourteen, flops onto his bed and groans, cursing the world

‘Jackson, Peter! Frickin’ Jackson, is messing up my life! I mean- I mean what does he have, that I haven’t got?’ Stiles asks, sitting up from the bed and looking at Peter who’s lounging on the desk chair ‘I mean…aside from muscles, good looks, Captain of the lacrosse team…’ he falls back onto he bed with a thump ‘Frickin’ Jackson, Peter!’

Peter frowns ‘Stiles, she’s obviously not worth it, if she’d pick that air head over you.’

Stiles groans, rolling over so his face is muffled into the pillows. Peter sighs, and lies beside him, rubbing Stiles’ back soothingly

‘there’ll be others.’ Peter tries ‘who see how amazing you are.’

Stiles sniffles, and turns over, eying Peter carefully ‘yeah?’

‘I promise.’

‘I’m holding you to that.’ Stiles grumbles, sitting up and letting Peter hug him ‘if I turn out to be some 80 year old spinster who’s never even had a first kiss, I’ll be pretty angry.’

Peter laughs.

…

…

…

Peter holds Stiles while they slow dance under strobe lights. Everyone dancing slowly, and Stiles was his. The kid was a little tall, a little lanky and uncomfortable in his suit, but with his hands on Peter’s shoulders, and a smile on his face, he was the perfect picture of comfort and beauty.

‘Thank you for inviting me.’ Peter said softly, and Stiles shuddered against him

‘Yeah-yeah, of course.’ Stiles nodded, ducking his head shyly, and Peter nosed his cheek gently

‘Why are you so nervous?’

‘Not nervous.’ Stiles murmured ‘just my first dance, that’s all. Well apart from that time I spilt pumpkin juice all over Lydia’s dress. She slapped me so hard I thought I was going to faint.’

Peter gripped Stiles’ waist more tightly ‘well you’re doing perfectly.’ He whispered lovingly into Stiles’ ear, and Stiles smiled

‘you too.’

Peter smiled, Stiles’ hands warm on his shoulders.

Peter doesn't feel out of place amongst all these children, though he probably should. But Peter's never felt out of place anywhere, and here? With Stiles in his arms...it feels right.

…

…

…

‘Stop! Stop!’ Stiles giggled unbearably pleased, as Peter blew raspberries onto his stomach ‘Stop! Mercy!’ He continued laughing hysterically as Peter readjusted his shirt and tucked him into his chest ‘Peter, Peter,’ the six year old smiled, feeling Peter’s beard under his fingertips as he mapped out Peter’s face ‘hello,’ he presses a wet kiss to Peter’s nose, and Peter brushes his thumbs over Stiles’ eyebrows.

‘Mine.’ He rumbles, and Stiles sighs happily, relaxing into his grip.


End file.
